How to Be a Lady
by askur
Summary: Sleep was something Harry did not look forward to. When he dreamt a rather bizarre dream, he woke up to find himself in an unlikely room. Merlin help his sanity. LV/HP. Dimension travelling.


**Author's Note**: This is my first time writing a Harry Potter fanfiction. Currently, I'm afraid that I'll mess up somehow. So whoever's-up-there help me, can anyone beta for me? I have a few other fanfiction ideas in mind, and I would be interested in developing ideas with someone. Please note that romance won't be the main focus of this story.

**Disclaimer**: I really don't want to deal with Voldemort and his Death Eaters or J. K. Rowling and her lawyers. They own Harry Potter.

**Warnings**: Profanities, Violence, some LV/HP, a slashfic in a twisted way, genderbending (for the moment), implied sexual situations

* * *

**H**arry Potter knew something was wrong the moment he woke up. And boy, did he let out his frustrations, worries, and anxieties through his voice box by the means of a loud scream. A very, very satisfying feeling came afterwards, but was soon replaced by his frustrations, worries, and anxieties once again. Poor Harry.

_Bloody hell, what was that?_

Shuddering, Harry recalled his nightmare. Within his rather erratic dream, he had been a girl, Erica, that smiled at Draco Malfoy, retorted like in a Snape-like way, and had a happy, yet busy family. He knew a large portion of the girl's memories and knowledge. It was, in a bizarre way, like watching Voldemort through his connection. Instead of seeing glimpse of the Dark Lord's life, he saw many of the details. There were odd blanks, but he assumed that they were trivial information.

The wizard's head pounded angrily, only it wasn't from the scar that he had. Harry was still having a hard time sorting through his memories. It wasn't uncomfortable dreaming himself as a girl, per se. He...was just there. For Merlin's sake! A girl! And he thought it was normal! Could it get any wor—. His thoughts paused, rewind, and replayed from his wakening. He had shot up from his mint green bed sheets, then he had screamed. The scream had sounded quite, quite feminine, now that he pondered back onto the event, which had happened only seconds ago.

Harry opened his mouth and let out a groan. It only confirmed his suspicion. He wasn't a male any more. The shame! Why him? Does his dream have some sort of connection to his current situation? If it does, Harry was screwed. Actually, since he had seen the girl's life from inside out, he wouldn't have any problem fitting in. The only problem was that the girl was brilliant, and he not-so-much. After his rather interesting revelation, he buried his face into the silk sheet before tossing them off right after, appalled.

Cue several colourful profanities.

It wasn't from the realisation that he, Harry Potter, was now a girl named Erica, but rather from the bitter wind that made themselves home in the room. Harry gave the bedsheets one last grudging glance before pulling it around him. Now that he was warm, he should be able to think correct. Should being the operative word here.

Harry couldn't be called a he now. So the more fitting pronouns to describe him would be consisted of she and her...

With any warning, the door slammed open and two figures hurriedly went up to Harry. One of them wrapped their arms around him in a tight hug. Without glasses, Harry couldn't make out their exact features (he also noted that in this body, he had retained his bad eyesight), though he could see that they were a woman with fiery red hair and a man that possessed a hairstyle similar to his former body.

The woman sobbed. "I thought you were never going to wake up."

The man muttered something about "stop exaggerating".

Where had he heard these voices before?

"Uh...I-I'm alright..." Harry muttered shyly, not really adapted to hearing a grown woman crying. Immediately, the woman's sobbing had shifted into sniffing.

Now, Harry could see the woman's face after she had stopped burying her face into his now somewhat-wet pyjamas.

If it were not for years of dealing with (nasty) surprises, Harry would have been gobsmacked. And if it were not for the photo album he kept, he would have never recognised her.

Lily Evans.

"Mum?"

Harry could practically hear his mother smile.

"I'm so glad that you woke up..." she trailed off, her voice started to break. Before she could burst into tears again, Harry hugged his mother.

"Don't worry, I'm fine now. See?"

But what had happened?

The man, Harry assumed to be his dad, grumbled playfully, "Now you wake up on us. In the middle of night of course..."

The concerned undertone didn't go unnoticed, but Harry nodded and gave a weary smile to the general direction of his father.

"It's 'your mum and I', Dad," Harry said, replying instinctively.

"Ah, still the grammar troll, eh?" James teased.

Lily huffed. "Alright, alright. Let's leave her alone. She just woke up, give her some space."

"Says the one who is hugging her daughter like a teddy bear."

"At least I'm getting a hug."

Lily tucked Harry into bed (Harry had never been tucked in before, so he blushed) and kissed his cheeks. Then, turning to her husband, she rebuked him on his childish behaviour. Harry watched (as best as he can without glasses) as Lily and James bantered lightly whilst exiting the room. Before they closed the door, they said a "good-bye" and "sleep tight" to him. This left Harry very, very confused as to where he was. But no matter, he would have to solve this tomorrow. It was still dark out and probably very late too. Dreaming or not, his mother and father were alive. That was all he needed to know to rest with great tranquillity. Closing his eyes, Harry fell asleep with joy lingering on his barely smiling face.

* * *

"**U**p, up, up! Master and Mistress told Nicy that they be wanting little lady at the dinning table!"

Harry cracked his left eye open just to met with another wide, shinning eye. He let out a surprised squeak at the sudden appearance of a house-elf hovering over him. Frazzled, Harry pushed himself up; the little creature rolled off of the bed as he did so. Seconds ticked by, and the house-elf didn't do anything. Curiously, Harry leaned over his bed. Nothing was on the floor. Maybe under the bed? He took a peek. Nope. Harry rose up, only to stare at Nicy dangling from the top of the canopy.

Harry, being caught off guard, let out another indignant noise.

"Hurry up little lady! Master be getting impatient! Master's friends is here too!" Nicy jumped down on the floor and tossed something at Harry.

Harry, using his Quidditch-trained reflex, caught the item. Oh good, it was his glasses. He put them on and blinked. It was sharper than the last one he had. But then again, his previous prescription was probably outdated. The frame was shaped differently too, causing mild discomfort. Nothing that Harry couldn't deal with.

Huh, he still maintained his Quidditch skills? That was interesting.

Even though Harry was confused as much as he could be, he went along with the "flow", whatever that was.

Now he was able to see the room a bit more clearly. The designs were a definite sign that the owner of this room was a female. He sighed, well, he could hope. Unfortunately, that failed really badly.

Harry tried to remind himself how he got here. But his memory only gave him a mass amount of blurred text. Maybe someone played a prank on him while he was napping in the library? That could be a possibility. His train of thoughts broke when Nicy pulled him out of bed and onto the ground.

"Come on now, little lady, best not be keeping Master and Mistress waiting," the house-elf said, dragging Harry in front of a wardrobe.

Harry was about to whine on how bossy the house-elf was acting, but then remembered that he was in a place where his mother and father lived. Since feeling pain was the best remedy for waking from a dream, Harry deducted that 1) he was not in a dream and 2) he was probably going to be stuck here for a while.

Normally, under these kind of situations, Harry would freak out. But since there weren't anyone trying to kill him or harm him (with ill intent), he would not act like a madman and get himself in trouble by blabbing that he was from another universe where James and Lily Potter had died, there was a Dark Lord taking over Wizarding Britain, and all that _good_ stuff (note his sarcasm).

Harry took a glance at the mirror on the wardrobe and was startled to see the little amount differences, as he expected many changes. His facial features were more feminine and younger, and his body was petite (and short, much to his disappointment) as ever. However, what really amazed him was his long, wavy black hair. Good thing that he didn't inherited his father's messy black locks as a female. Or else that would end up disastrously.

"Here is good clothes for little lady to wear!" Nicy exclaimed whilst her head was in the wardrobe. Seconds later, a white blouse, a dark green skirt, and a pair of knee-high socks were tossed into Harry's arm. Harry let out a sigh and miserably looked at the skirt. He would have whimpered if it weren't for his Gryffindor pride (which was shot to hell ever since last night).

No use crying over spilt potion.

* * *

**O**ne thing Harry did not expect when he went downstairs was the Marauders among few other people that were chattering between themselves. The one that stood out the most was Peter Pettigrew. Harry almost snarled at the traitor, then he berated his conscience into thinking that Pettigrew didn't kill his parents, in this world at least.

"Erica!" Sirius stood up from his seat at the dinning table and took long strides to meet Harry. Everyone temporarily halted their conversation to look at Sirius and Harry, some with amusement, others with exasperation.

"Good morning Sirius," he said, hoping that Erica had called his godfather "Sirius" at times, or else he would be in some _serious_ trouble (the pun was unintentional). It was awkward, but relieving, to see his godfather so lively and young. Sirius didn't look haunted or hollow compared to Harry's meeting with him during his third year at Hogwarts, where his godfather recently escaped from Azkaban.

The young wizard concluded that Pettigrew didn't betray his family at all, seeing that the pudgy man was looking healthy as ever and chatting with Lily animatedly.

"I hope you didn't hit your little head too hard, I would miss your sarcastic remarks if you became dumb and dull." Sirius smiled and pinched Harry's cheek. Harry shot a look of annoyance at his godfather and swatted the offending hand away. Internally, Harry was glad to see Sirius acting so immature. Sirius seemed to enjoy life.

Maybe the world he landed in wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

"I thought you would be missing my intellectual dominance," Harry said nonchalantly. He had no idea where that sentence came from, but he prayed to Merlin, mentally, for the best.

"Not really. But I know you missed me. Must be boring to be stuck in bed, eh? Of course you missed your awesome godfather, right?" Harry didn't get a chance to answer before Sirius continued. "Ha! I knew it! You missed me because I can kick your ass in Quidditch!" Sirius announced to the whole table. James and Lily shot him a disapproving glare at his usage of profanity. Pettigrew and Remus, who looked over his newspaper, chuckled.

"No, I was actually thinking about how to get away from your verbal harassment. They are very, very damaging to my mental capacity."

Sirius pouted, "You didn't mean that...did you?"

"I did mean it. No, of course not you silly dog, now stop keeping me away from breakfast."

Sirius slapped Harry on the back.

"Come on now, straight up and tall. Then you may go to breakfast."

Harry rolled his eyes, but complied nonetheless, "Yes, yes."

This had gone better than Harry had thought it would, even though most of his words just sprouted out of nowhere. Maybe the girl still existed in this body, just not controlling it. Harry shuddered slightly at this theory. Some things were better left unsaid and pushed into back of the mind.

Both of them took a seat at the dinning table right next to each other. Before Harry could dig into his oh-so-delicious meal, he was interrupted by opening of the door. In came the Malfoy family, dressed in ridiculously expensive robes for breakfast. Harry was slightly intimidated by the debut of the pureblood family. Soon, he recognised Draco (a little one no less! How nostalgic), it was said in his classical traits: grey eyes, pale blond hair, and a confident boarding on arrogant demeanour. Harry almost let a frown slip onto his face, but he kept his expression smooth and untroubled.

In Harry's world, many purebloods boasted about their blood purity and gossiped on half-bloods and muggleborns. It was one of the reasons why Harry never associated himself with the purebloods. Even though they regarded him with respect in the first year, the number slowly dwindled as his life at Hogwarts gone on. It can be hardly said that any pureblood family would pay him homage, within the exception of several Light families. Much to Harry's surprise, the Malfoy heir gave him a slight smile, as if the notion of Harry's blood status didn't exist at all.

It was already strange enough that Draco Malfoy was in the Potter's house.

"You're staring."

Startled by Sirius's words, Harry regained his (flimsy) posture and watched his charmed scrambled eggs dance around on his china plate.

Malfoy—Draco, Harry thought absentmindedly, his father was here—strutted over to Harry's side and sat down.

Draco said, "Good morning."

Harry used his fork to prod an animated dragon-shaped egg before turning to smile at Draco. It was forced of course.

"And to you," he replied. Harry nearly winced at how polite and utterly soft he sounded.

For some unknown reason, Draco decided that it was a fantastic idea to ask Harry questions about how he was feeling and what had happened that resulted in the head injury. Lucius Malfoy commented _lightly_ on "Erica's" coordination and wished his condition well.

Oh the horror.

Harry tried to consume his meal without flickering the items immaturely at Draco. He tried to act like a responsible adult, which he supposed the girl who had possessed had been. Keyword: tried. Eating elegantly sure took a lot from Harry. He deemed that it wasn't in his area of skills after all. Between them were an awkward silence whilst the adult conversed between themselves. It seemed like the only children in the room was Draco and Harry.

"So...Erica," Draco began, "On your birthday, your father announced that you'll be going to Hogwarts. I'm wondering if you want to go to Diagon Alley with me? On the weekdays?"

Harry's first words were suppose to be a loud "Hell no!" But he decided against it, choosing to mentally blanch at the tone Draco was using.

Nodding, Harry answered, "I-I would be delighted."

Draco beamed at him with childish glee.

Crestfallen, Harry looked back on his reply and cringed. He could have said no, but he had to accept. After all, it wasn't really comforting for him when purebloods—especially Malfoy—near them started to scrutinise Harry right after Draco proposed the idea. Slowly, the glances given to him declined in numbers. It was inevitable. The staring, the whispers, and the pointing.

Maybe this world wasn't so different after all.

* * *

**H**arry stared at his Hogwarts letter in surprise, well, more of shock than surprise actually. He almost stuttered at the absurdity of it. On the parchment, it clearly stated Hogwarts's headmaster. Even though the time has changed, Harry didn't expect this person to be the headmaster.

_Lord Voldemort._

Underneath the name was various titles that was given to him. Some of them still included He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, The Dark Lord, Lord Slytherin, etcetera.

_More like He-Who-Has-Too-Many-Dashes._ Harry scowled.

However, he didn't spy Lord Voldemort's real name among the long list of titles. As he explore further on his letter, he wasn't surprised to see some book titles with familiarity and others that were quite dark in nature. Some were obvious in their devotion to which art. What really did bewildered Harry was some of the textbook of Light nature listed. He thought Voldemort would have banished the practise of Light Magic upon domination; it seemed like that wasn't the case.

"Erica! The Malfoys are here!" Sirius called from downstairs.

Harry looked sincerely distressed. It was Saturday. He had promised Draco to go out with him earlier that week. Within the days between, he had been busying himself, researching about dimensional and soul magic. Much to Harry's chagrin, the Potter Family Library wasn't so keen on the darker aspects of magic. Soul and stronger Dimensional Magic was considered Dark, but not so much that Harry couldn't find some information of use. He had several leads to other texts, but nothing quite in detailed. Considering Harry's current magical energy, he wouldn't last long enough to get through phase one of those spells.

Another thing Harry figured out during his stay here was his unusual ability. Well, the ability was unique to the Potter family and its branches. They had the talent to sense and measure magical energy and talent. The ability was called Sinn, a word that originated from the Frankish Language (Harry smirked at that). Most of the time, it was passed onto female members of the family, and the occasional male here and there.

In the family library was a tapestry of the Potter family. Harry was awed by the expansion of the tree. The Potters had many female members, sure, but they were connected to various Light and Dark families. It wasn't unusual to see that he was related to the Weasleys or Black, but the Malfoys also! Harry swore that he had saw a Lestrange somewhere.

However, he couldn't question his ancestry since his mother and father decided to attend some sort of social events. Thus leaving Harry with Sirius.

Back to the event at hand.

Harry quickly donned his hunter green robe and threw the folded letters into his charmed bag (the extension charm was a marvellous thinking on his mother's part). He stepped down the stairs, careful not to trip and make a fool out of himself.

Suddenly, Harry's hand was taken, and Draco placed a kiss on his knuckles. Harry snatched his hand back Looking surprised, Draco raised an eyebrow, but made no commentary of it. At the moment, Harry was blushing in a combination of humiliation and rage. If Ron had been here, he would never let Harry live it down. And if the Malfoy from his world was here...Harry shuddered at that thought. One Draco Malfoy in the world was enough. Two would mean a Malfoy Reign. Two Draco Malfoy egos would probably be on par with Voldemort's power. The idea was plausible and amusing. Harry resisted the urge to grin, but that only served to redden his face further.

Draco eyed him weirdly, but shrugged it off as embarrassment.

"Shall we go?" he asked teasingly, offering his arm.

Harry paled. Silently, he swore that he would agree to go shopping with Malfoy again, but nevertheless took Malfoy's arm. He was going to regret this shopping trip.

* * *

**. C R E U .**


End file.
